Weekend in New England
by jakela
Summary: Joss expects to spend the weekend with one man, but another man arrives instead. A pillow fight, germ warfare, John in a wet suit and Joss flips (off) her top – in other words, general silliness ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Weekend in New England – Chapter 1: Barry Manilow

A/N: Joss expects to spend the weekend with one man, but another man arrives instead. A pillow fight, germ warfare, John in a wet suit and Joss flips (off) her top – in other words, general silliness ensues.

This story was inspired by a Chapter 7 review of The Other Guy from persnikitty5: 'A weekend away would be nice for Joss, but I don't think John will let that happen'.

The usual disclaimers: Nothing you recognize belongs to me.

Administrative Assistant Celia Cook had worked for her boss a long time and thought she knew everything about him, so it took a minute for her to realize as she brought in a stack of old briefs into his office, that Steven Piascik was humming.

She thought it was momentary aberration, but when she realized he hadn't given out any directives for hours, she saw that he was leaning back in his chair, gazing out the window, humming.

Something was wrong. Her boss wasn't barking out orders, wasn't working and most disturbing of all, was humming.

Humming.

Barry Manilow.

Three of his top associates and a paralegal had noticed as well. They signaled each other to meet with Celia in a conference room on the far side of the building.

"What's with the humming?" Jeff Podurgiel, the paralegal, asked.

"What's with the song?" Allison Turner laughed. "_Barry Manilow_? Please. That man has had so many face lifts, his stomach is on his forehead."

"Who is he?," Kerry Chan asked.

"This old guy," Allison said. "My grandmother loves him. His songs are the stuff you hear in the dentist's office – you know, before the drill drowns him out."

Celia had to stick up for her generation. "Barry Manilow was incredibly popular." She told the story about the meeting between Manilow, Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel, where Manilow told them that he would be bigger than them both.* "And he was," she said to their incredulous faces, "for a very long time."

"But Steven's not old en-," Elizabeth Mugabe caught Celia's piercing glare, then she slapped her hand on the conference table, laughing. "He's taking her away, _that's_ why he's humming _Weekend in_ _New England!_"

Elizabeth was the first to suggest that Steven was involved with the stunning police officer she had seen him chatting with at the Aspirations Day event, she, Kerry and Allison had spoken at several months ago. "He's just happy."

"He's _too_ happy," Kerry fretted. "He hasn't given us any additional work for three days. We've never seen him like this."

"I'm just glad he found someone," Elizabeth said. "It's been two years since the divorce and after that Michelle –"

"She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Allison made a cross with her two forefingers, as if she was warding off vampires. They all grimaced. "We do not speak of her."

Elizabeth got a faraway look in her eyes. "Hmmmm, a weekend away. What do you think they'll do?

Allison, Kerry and Jeff answered simultaneously.

"Well, she _is_ a cop –" Allison smirked.

"Some men like to be tied up and beaten-" Kerry laughed.

"Handcuffs and a baton-" Jeff whispered.

Celia gave them all her piercing glare and the laughter and snickers abruptly stopped. Kerry and Jeff looked at, then away from each other, red-faced.

"Wait – Jeff, didn't you say that Steven was upset when he came back to the symposium after the break Saturday afternoon?" Allison asked. "Jeff…Jeff?"

"Huh? What…yeah – his new girlfriend met his old girlfriend at the luncheon. How do you think that went over?"

"Sounds like he was able to fix it, if they're going away together." Elizabeth held out her hand. "Pay up. I called it back in January and none of you losers believed me."

Four twenty dollar bills are pressed into her hand.

"What are you going to spend the money on, Elizabeth?" Celia asked.

Elizabeth smiled. "This won't pay for a weekend in New England, but I'm sure I'll come up with something…"

Next, we learn a little about the place Steven has chosen for that special weekend and in Chapter 3 Joss announces her weekend plans to Taylor and John.

A/N: *I heard about this story from a relative and found this in the _People_ magazine archives, February 8, 1982:

Early in his recording career, Barry Manilow went out to breakfast in Philadelphia with two other aspiring young singers barely more famous than he. Their names were Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel. The three had little to say to one another. Suddenly Barry announced, "I'm going to be bigger than both of you put together."


	2. Chapter 2

Weekend in New England

Chapter 2: Islands in the Stream

A/N: To recap, in The Other Guy, Steven Piascik is a wealthy Trusts and Estates attorney whom Joss has been dating for several months. Reese has ignored Piascik's presence in Joss' life, and his own feelings for her as well, until he meets Steven in Joss' apartment. Steven realizes that Reese cares for Joss as well, and the two men have an intense exchange in a local bar. In that story, Reese goes to Joss' apartment the next day and makes his feelings known to Joss, but in this story, he never made it there and Joss has accepted Steven's invitation for a weekend away, where they will be intimate for the first time.

This chapter is split into two sections. In the first section we spend some time with Steven Piascik and in the second section, we learn more about the place he is taking Joss to for the weekend, as well as little about the owner.

Done.

Steven Piascik realized he was humming again as he completed the arrangements with the owner of the private island he'd reserved for his weekend with Jocelyn Carter. Steven had conducted an exhaustive review of over two dozen places before he'd settled on the island, which was approximately a two hour drive east of the city, far enough to make a quick return impossible, but not too far if there was an emergency with Jocelyn's son, Taylor or his daughter, Skye.

The place usually wasn't open this early in the spring, but Steven was very persuasive, swaying the owner when he booked all the rooms, even though he and Jocelyn would be the only guests. He knew that most of the homes on the other islands weren't open yet, so there would be no boat traffic, noise from loud parties or other activities. The weekend weather promised to be unusually warm for April, so they could go for walks, sit outside and just enjoy the beauty of Long Island Sound.

The owner himself would be present during the weekend to attend to their needs, assuring Steven that they would have all the privacy they desired.

Steven leaned back in his chair. He knew his staff was wondering what had come over him this week. He was calm, smiling, effusive with his compliments, even bought lunch for the entire department today. His admin Celia poked her head in his office so much, she looked like a bespectacled cuckoo bird, and when she disappeared with several other staffers for almost an hour today, he knew they were talking about him.

Wait till they see what I'm like after a weekend with Jocelyn, he thought.

A whole weekend with Jocelyn Carter.

Steven sighed, thinking about finally being with the woman who had consumed so much of his thoughts for the last few months. She was smart, beautiful and most importantly, didn't put up with his crap, as she proved when she firmly shut down his attempt at the symposium luncheon to maneuver her into taking a lucrative corporate security position and give up her career as a homicide detective.

Steven had spent too much time with women easily bowled over by his wealth and social position and he was tired of always getting his own way, tired of the easy conquest, tired of being bored.

He knew he would never be bored with Jocelyn. She was her own person and didn't even blink when the woman he dated last year, Michelle Hayward, practically burned a hole into Jocelyn's face with her accusing glares during the luncheon. Steven had broken up with Michelle weeks before he met the detective, but he could tell that she wanted to believe that Jocelyn had somehow stolen him from her, rather than they simply weren't right for each other.

Though he didn't want to admit it, when Steven asked Jocelyn to go away with him, he was surprised when she said that she'd have to make a few arrangements first and even more surprised when she called him two days later and confirmed that she would spend the weekend with him. He knew that Jocelyn liked him, liked spending time with him, but she always seemed to be holding back, as if she was waiting for something else to happen.

As if she was waiting for another man.

He'd had his suspicions and they were confirmed when he met her friend, John Reese, at her apartment last weekend. Steven had been a short, chubby, poor boy, and even though that kid was long gone, seeing the tall, handsome, elegantly dressed man, brought all those old feelings of inadequacy to the forefront.

John Reese was the guy who stood out, the guy everybody fawned over, the guy who didn't have to do anything to get the girl.

The cock of the walk, as his grandmother used to say.

Jocelyn and Reese clearly were good friends, and after chatting with him for a few minutes, Steven thought he might have been mistaken about the man's feelings for her, that perhaps he was letting his own preconceived notions color their relationship.

But when he kissed her, he saw it.

Steven had spent years with people in court rooms and at conference tables, while they listened to someone's last wishes. There were the ones who cried, the ones who screamed at him, the ones who got into fist fights when they didn't get their grandmother's locket or the multimillion dollar estate, but it was the ones who calmly sat there, the ones who only gave the slightest eye twitch or faintest twist of the lips when they didn't get what they wanted, they were the ones who he had learned to pay attention to, the ones he counseled his clients on when they were deciding who would get what after they died.

They were the ones you had to watch out for.

They got what they wanted, sometimes via legal means and sometimes not, but they always got their way.

John Reese was good, very good at hiding his emotions, but just for a millisecond, as his eyes flashed from pale gray to a fathomless dark blue, he revealed what he really wanted – and he really wanted Jocelyn Carter.

Steven decided to attack first and in a bar a few blocks from Jocelyn's apartment, he had a brief, vicious conversation with the man. He'd expected an all-out battle for Jocelyn's affections after that.

But nothing happened. And if Jocelyn agreed to go away with him, she had decided to stop waiting.

He'd called it – John Reese, for whatever reason, was a total chicken shit when it came to making a move on Jocelyn.

Steven smiled. The only cock that was going to be in motion this weekend, he thought, is _mine_.

He stood in his office doorway. "Celia, I'm going home. Take the rest of the day off."

She gave him a long look over her spectacles, then scrambled to gather her things before he changed his mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm spending the weekend at my aunt's."

A simple statement that dissuades any other questions, as you visualize your friend or colleague spending a quiet, boring weekend with an elderly relative, drinking weak tea and watching network television.

Only those in the know were aware that the 'aunt' was an island off the coast of Connecticut. Forty years ago, one of Syd Pryce's band mates dubbed it Antarctica because it was so far away from the other small islands and rocky outcrops that made up the archipelago known as the Thimble Islands*.

The band had just done three sold out shows at the Yale Bowl** in nearby New Haven and had decided to spend their day off floating around and partying. Through the haze of groupies, booze and other intoxicants, Syd looked at the lonely spot.

He knew that there was something special about it. The trees grew straight and tall there, even though they should have been bent and twisted by the wind. He could see a meadow in the center of the island. And though there were dangerous rocks and ledges around it, there was also an open section, almost like a path in the water, beckoning you to explore.

He wanted to take a closer look, but his band mates were bored and they asked the captain to turn back.

But Syd never forgot it. And years later after the band went the way that most bands do, with the breakups, feuds and reunion tours, the rehab stints, the alimony, palimony and paternity suits and the inevitable _In Memoriam_ photos at the award shows, he asked the same captain who had piloted he and his band mates around to take him to the island.

A former Boy Scout, Syd brought a tent and some supplies and spent three days and nights there. He had partaken in many of the temptations offered to him during his years with the band, but had never succumbed to them. There were no angry ex-wives or neglected children, no track marks on his arms, no solo album collecting dust or derided acting attempts.

While he'd spent, donated or given away most of the money he'd earned with the group, he'd written songs for other artists under his real name, Brian Woodward, and that money was in a separate account, which he had never touched.

And he wrote a letter, every week, to his best friend, no matter where he was in the world.

As he walked every inch of the island, he was amazed at the huge elms, hemlocks, beeches and hawthorns that flourished here, many varieties that had either succumbed to disease or been pushed out by invasive plants in other places. During the Revolutionary War, all of the trees had been cut down on the other islands in fear that the British would use them to conceal their approach. Perhaps this island was spared because it was so far from all the others. The meadow contained many native flowers, herbs and berry bushes and while there were large rocky formations throughout, Syd noted, they were in the eye line of the closest islands, blocking their view of the place.

Syd was a talented musician, had played for hundreds of thousands of people and traveled the world, but that life was over now. Totally alone for the first time in years, he knew what he wanted.

Most importantly, he knew the person that he wanted, too.

On the fourth day, the captain returned and brought him back to the mainland. Syd rented a plain sedan and drove to a little town two counties east where his best friend was the librarian.

Marian Edmunds often said she couldn't be anything else but a librarian with her first name. Her hair, eyes and skin were the same rich creamy brown, except for dark brown freckles on her nose and cheeks. Full figured, her body was the type that society says to ignore, yet men couldn't keep their eyes off her. She had many admirers and had been engaged twice, Syd knew, but she had never married.

When he walked into the library, he was still recognizable as the bass player for what used to be one of the world's most popular bands, and several patrons approached him as a staffer ran to get her, but they all fell back when Marian walked out onto the main floor and greeted the tall, dark brown skinned man, the electricity around them palpable.

"Hey, Peanut Butter Girl," he said.

"Peanut butter and chocolate chips," she said, pointing at her freckles, "Don't forget those."

"Never do," he said, as he kissed her cheek.

The next day he bought the island, three weeks later he and Marian were married and twenty five years after that, Antarctica or the Aunt, as it was called, was one of the most private retreats in the area. Accessible only by boat, low key, yet luxurious, it was open for only six months out of the year. Syd, Marian, their two adult sons and a well trained staff catered to an eclectic clientele.

Most, but not all of their guests were wealthy. Many came for the solitude and the chance to get away from their everyday lives without having to travel long distances. Scientists came to explore the flora and geological formations. Corporate teams planned strategy there. The armed forces occasionally held training exercises around it, taking advantage of its isolation, yet proximity to nearby military installations.

And a significant number came for the truth.

The island was the place where the truth was revealed. People fell in love, or admitted they were no longer in love. Parents had frank talks with their children and children proved that they were now adults. Partnerships were formed or dissolved. New businesses or creative endeavors were envisioned or jettisoned. Some guests came every year or when they had a milestone birthday.

The phrase, 'Go to the Aunt', was whispered to those in need, like the password to a secret society,

If you didn't know where you were in your life, you came to the island. You might not always like the answer, but you could never say you hadn't heard it.

Syd often thought that if he could bring world leaders here, much of the globe's problems would be solved, but he knew that would never happen. The power of the island was that it was private – he knew that the effect would be lost if the rest of the world knew, that they'd try to bend it to their will, instead of letting the truth speak to them.

The man who had reserved the entire place was hard charging, determined and wouldn't take no for an answer. It was very clear that it was an important weekend for him and his lady friend, Syd mused, as he hung up the call.

His wife smiled as she walked into his office. "Last minute instructions from our guest?"

"Nothing we can't handle," he smiled back.

Marian leaned over his desk. "He really did book every room – I thought you were joking. This lady must be special. Or," she raised an eyebrow, "he's trying to prove something."

"We'll see. Either way, it should be an interesting weekend, Peanut Butter Girl. Give me one of those chocolate chip cheeks to kiss."

*The Thimble Islands are comprised of over twenty small islands and hundreds of rocky outcrops off the Connecticut shoreline. Captain Kidd was said have buried treasure there and as recently as the late 1990s, explorers were searching for the pirate's booty in the pink granite rocks that make up the archipelago. All the trees were cut down during the Revolutionary War and scrub pines, trees planted by the residents, wild roses and huge patches of poison ivy, making some spots impenetrable to humans, have taken root. Many of the larger islands are dotted with beautiful Victorian homes and boat tours during the summer give tourists a chance to see this special place. Famous residents have included P. T. Barnum circus star Captain Tom Thumb and President William Howard Taft, who maintained his summer White House there.

**The 70,000 person capacity Yale Bowl, home of the Yale University Bulldogs, stopped hosting concerts over thirty years ago, due to complaints from local residents.

A/N: So Steven thinks he has picked the perfect place for a romantic weekend with Joss – far enough outside of the city so she can't be quickly summoned by a late night phone call, accessible only by boat and with all the rooms booked, no surprise guests. Or so he thinks…

Next, Joss announces her weekend plans to Taylor and John. As we already know, Taylor and John have their best conversations when they say little - or in this chapter, say nothing at all. And John starts to formulate his plan to thwart Steven.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Sounds of Silence

In this chapter, Joss announces her weekend plans to Taylor and John, John and Taylor talk without saying a word and John begins to formulate his plans to thwart his rival.

The first section is from Joss' POV, the second's a general narrative and the third section is from John's POV.

Joss Carter sighed as she pulled the lasagna out of the oven.

An attractive, attentive man. A luxurious weekend getaway. Relaxing days and sensuous nights.

So why wasn't she more excited?

Was she too old or simply out of practice? Was her life so humdrum or mundane, that she had become humdrum and mundane as well, plodding at such a slow pace, existing at such a low hum that nothing excited her anymore?

Joss smiled at that. Perhaps before she met The A – insert your own adjective, Aggravating, Arrogant, Attitudinal, Asshole, it varied, sometimes by the minute – Team*, she might have said that, but not anymore.

Getting away from Vigilantes R US and their crazy world for even a few days should have her turning cartwheels in the streets. No late night phone calls, no looking over her shoulder, no false police reports for criminals trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys around the city.

So why wasn't she more excited?

Perhaps she was overthinking it – just relax, Jocelyn, she told herself. The place Steven picked was perfect, far enough outside the city that you really felt like you were _away_, without having to be in transit for hours. A packet had arrived by messenger this afternoon from the owners, Syd and Marian Pryce, and Joss couldn't believe how beautiful it was. The Pryces had included a handwritten note and they sounded wonderful – she was looking forward to meeting them as much as she was spending time on their lovely island.

So why wasn't she more excited?

Joss had spoken to Steven briefly this evening to let him know that she had received the packet. His voice was soft when he told her how much he was looking forward to spending time together. She knew he wanted to make love to her, wanted to wake up with her, wanted to take their relationship to another level and not just into the bedroom. Steven was a good man and she liked spending time with him – wanting to take the next step was only natural.

So why wasn't she more excited?

The thud of athletic equipment, footsteps and _maleness_ in the apartment let her know that her son and John Reese had finished another round in their gender's periodic attempts to kill each other, thinly disguised as athletic competition.

Taylor poked his head in the kitchen, his face bright and shiny, smelling of soap. "Mom!" He grinned.

"Son!" She grinned back, knowing he wanted something.

"Can John stay for dinner?"

The capital A in The A Team, poked his head in the doorway as well, looking equally bright and shiny and Joss thought, suddenly so young, the cowlick that he tried so hard to flatten down waving triumphantly at her.

She folded her arms. "Taylor, what did I say about bringing home strays?"

"It's just for dinner, Mom, and I did beat his a – butt on the court tonight."

There was a cough and Joss swore John said '_bullsheet'_ under his breath. "I promise not to overstay my welcome, Detective. And…" Reese held up a bag from her favorite confectioner, Death By Chocolate. "I brought dessert."

He knew her weakness: beat me, torture me – I laugh. Chocolate – I surrender without a fight.

"Ohhh, okaaay…," she raised an eyebrow at Reese, "but he probably has fleas."

Taylor laughed, turned and she knew that he was taking the athletic gear to a storage closet down the hall.

Reese stepped into the kitchen. "You can groom me after dinner, if you'd like, Detective."

Joss smirked. "Nah, I'd just hose you off."

An image of her hands running over a naked, wet John Reese popped into her mind – she pushed it away.

Reese smirked back. "Careful, I might like that." He walked over to a cupboard. "Blue plates?"

"Please."

XXX

"I'm going out of town this weekend with my friend, Steven," Joss announced after they finished the lasagna.

Taylor and John nodded, but they didn't say anything.

Her eyes flicked back and forth at them. "Don't all talk at once. One at a time, guys."

They nodded again, still not saying anything.

Joss stood, poured herself some more water from the pitcher on the counter. "I thought you'd a little more to say," she said to Taylor. "_You_ get to have this place to yourself, and _you_," she turned to John, "at least I won't be yelling at you for a few days."

Reese's left shoulder muscles barely twitched forward.

Translation: _She's your mother. Better get in there._

Taylor made a slight flapping motion with his fingers.

Translation: _Yeah, make the kid do it. _Chicken_._

He put a big smile on his face. "Sounds _great_, Mom. Where ya goin'?"

"An island." Joss took the packet down from on top of the refrigerator. The Pryces had included several items, including a brochure, a personalized list of what items to bring, a phenological** update of what to look for with the islands flora and fauna based on the unusual spike in the April temperatures and a map.

Joss unfolded the detailed pen and ink rendering of the entire island and the three dark heads bent over it. In keeping with the Victorian architecture on many of the other islands, the buildings were exquisite reproductions of different styles from that era, including gingerbread, fretwork, turrets, wraparound porches, an observation tower and a solarium.

Winding paths, a pergola and steps carved into the rocky hillsides begged you to explore. Modern touches included a swimming pool and a helicopter pad. The map's legend detailed the trees, nesting sites and other key landscape features showing how much the Pryces valued them, and a small insert showed how Antarctica was situated relative to the other islands and the Connecticut shoreline.

"Man, it's way out compared to the others. How do you get there?" Taylor asked.

"By boat. The owner is going to pick us up." Joss said. "They're usually not open this early in the year, so we'll be the only guests. Just the two of us, the owner and his wife."

Reese ran his finger over two swings hanging from a massive beech tree. "It looks nice, Joss." He raised his head, meeting her eyes. "You'll…have a good time."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Joss nodded. "I think -" her phone rang. "I gotta take this."

She stood up, grabbed the calendar hanging from the refrigerator and half turned from them as she leaned on the counter, rescheduling an appointment.

Taylor leaned forward, raising both eyebrows sharply.

Translation: _WT_ – he paused at John's warning glance, then leaned back a bit, lowering his eyebrows. _What happened? You were supposed to stop by on Sunday._

Reese shook his head, raised both hands just above the top of the table.

Translation: _Got hung up, just couldn't get there._

Taylor lifted one eyebrow.

Translation: _What now, Bad Ass? Or should I start calling you _No Play_, like your game?_

Reese sat there for a moment, then his finger circled the insert on the map. He smiled the smile that had struck terror all over the globe.

Translation: _I got it all figured out,_ son.

Joss hung up the phone and Reese smiled at her. "Ready for dessert?"

XXX

Of course, he didn't have it all figured out, Reese thought as he left Joss' apartment an hour later, but when had that ever stopped him?

Reese had fully intended to visit Joss' apartment last Sunday, but a complex case involving identical triplets had kept him fully engaged for several days. It turned out that not only were the triplets trying to kill each other, but their older brother, tired of a half century of taking a back seat to his sisters, impulsively decided to join in the killing spree as well.

Reese spent one third of the time trying to figure out who the killer was, a third of the time trying to keep them all from killing each other and the remaining third of the time wanting to kill them himself.

Even Harold had a murderous gleam in his eyes as one of the triplets, spoiled before they were born, angrily shoved an elderly aunt aside when the woman had the audacity to meekly say that she couldn't lend her any more money.

Knowing the triplets antipathy to any women, but especially an accomplished beautiful woman like Joss, they had elected not to involve her. Reese had not seen her, spoken to her or monitored any of her communications, relying on quick visual checks and updates from Fusco that she was safe.

He had intended to this evening, if not declare his feelings to Joss, at least do _something_ – he just didn't know what.

But now she was going away. With Piascik.

Reese knew Joss well enough that she would stick with this decision, no matter what. She was going. Trying to delay her or keep her from going altogether would only make her angry and determined to go, come hell or high water.

Reese knew the same about Piascik. Even if he could lock the man in a dungeon somewhere or incapacitate him in some way, the man was going. If Piascik was in a full body cast, eating via a straw and had to be airlifted to the island, he was going.

Piascik's money, social position and connections kept Reese from trying to hit the man with some financial, social or legal crisis. He had enough resources to make them go away or simply delay them until after the weekend.

No, the objective had to be not only getting Piascik out of the picture, but in a way where he wouldn't _want_ Joss to spend time with him. Reese also had to make sure that Joss couldn't go to him – he knew she would, even if Piascik told her not to.

The insert on the map, showing the island's isolation was the key.

Joss had to go to the island without Piascik.

The island had to be cut off from any other transit, to or from, once she arrived.

Reese had to get to the island, but not by boat and not by air.

What Reese needed first was located on another small, isolated island a few hours drive from here.

Step one, Reese thought – blackmail.

*The A Team was a US television show that ran from 1983 – 1987 about four ex-Special Forces vets, framed for a crime they didn't commit, who help the innocent using elaborate schemes, massive firepower and lots of explosions while on the run from the military. One of the catch phrases from the show was "I love it when a plan comes together." A feature film was released in 2010.

**Phenology is a branch of science dealing with the relations between climate and periodic biological changes (bird migration or plant flowering.) Many gardeners do an aspect of this when they keep gardening journals.

Next: Reese carries out his plan.


End file.
